


The Ghost, The Saint; A Reminiscence of James Buchanan Barnes

by barnesish



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Death, Death, Depression, Dissociation, Gen, M/M, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barnesish/pseuds/barnesish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Buchanan Barnes, while no longer under the grasps of Hydra or The Winter Soldier, is struggling to readjust to the role James Buchanan Barnes. Saved and resurrected countless times by Steve Rogers, after so many times dying, one has to wonder where the line of living begins and ends, and when one starts to be nothing more than a story. A ghost in the shell of a human, being ebbed on by the Saint who insisted he deserved a second, third, fourth chance.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost, The Saint; A Reminiscence of James Buchanan Barnes

Death. Being completely, or nearly dead was something that one James Buchanan Barnes, over the years would grow accustomed to. As a child, he was either exposed to people he cared about passing, for various reasons, or people —very distinctly one Steven Grant Rogers— who came very close to it on countless occasions.

 

But dying. The concept of _being dead_ was one that he was unfamiliar with until later in life. And looking back, even though he was exposed to this on several occasions after he had been first introduced to the thought, it seemed like it all flew by. Being captured by Hydra for the first time was only the beginning of the end. It started some sort of tragic snowball effect, that'd drag on long after the war was over.

 

The situation, of course, had been resolved, and he had been rescued by Captain America himself.

 

He had been rescued. They were leaving, safe, ready to go back to camp when the explosions started. Again, he was certain that Steve was the reason they made it out.

 

They had escaped the jaws of death. And for the first time, James Buchanan Barnes was resurrected. Brought back from a situation he very reasonably should have died in.

 

They were alright after that. The Howling Commandos were formed, and although they had a few rough scrapes here and there, they always seemed to make it out okay, be it by the grace of some sort of God out there, or by the drive of some scrawny little kid from Brooklyn. They were alright.

 

They were supposed to be alright.

 

Sabotaging Hydra operations was working. They had eliminated nearly all known bases, and one of the Howlies’ last objectives had been to take Armin Zola by assaulting a train carrying the doctor. This, as the story went, was the last mission that James Buchanan Barnes was ever to enact, with the Howling Commandos or otherwise.

 

Like death, falling would become a sensation that he would grow accustomed to. And this was his first fall.

 

For an agonizingly long few seconds, he was vividly aware of everything that was happening. And no matter what, no matter how hard anyone tried, those few seconds would be something that was burned into Bucky’s memory, until the actual end of his days. Already crisp air grew frigid as his body tumbled from the car. This was death. This wasn’t something that Steve would swoop in and save him from, bringing him back with only a few cuts and bruises.

 

He lost consciousness within a matter of seconds, long before he actually hit the ground.

 

For one James Buchanan Barnes, this was the end of the line. What happened after that could be described in a similar way to what it was actually like to die, if you were to ask certain people. To not exist completely. For Bucky, there was nothing. No memories, no identity, no thoughts. He was aware of what was happening around him, in a sense, sure. He knew that he was instructed to be performing missions. And that’s what he did.

 

But it wasn’t Bucky. Bucky was gone.

 

Instead, what came in Bucky’s wake was an onslaught of experiments, assassinations, assignments. Pain. Emptiness. Fear. What came in Bucky’s wake was the Winter Soldier. A machine, cold, wired to do exactly as he was told, whenever he was told to do it. And this lasted for years. For decades, it was nothing but missions, following orders. Nothing changed.

 

Nothing changed until 1991.

 

Until 1991, all that was necessary to keep the Soldier in line was that he remain in cryo between missions. But in that year, the Winter Soldier was sent to assassinate a man and his wife in order to obtain samples of a super soldier serum.  The man in question was Howard Stark.

 

After that, problems slowly began to emerge. He began asking more questions, why the target seemed to believe he was someone he knew. Why it seemed like he was familiar. Why he simply existed, where he came from, if there was something wrong, something _clearly_ wasn’t right. _Why wouldn’t they tell him anything._

 

He started to remember things. He could never pinpoint what, but it always seemed like he was remembering tidbits of information that never seemed to add up to anything useful.

 

The protocol after that was to wipe the Soldier’s memories clean, make him forget every mission he had performed, unless activated and brought back by one of his handlers. They did this any time he showed signs of remembering anything, or asked any questions. If he so much as breathed the wrong way, they took everything from him. And this continued for another decade.

 

Then, even if he was unaware, as it had happened before, Steve Rogers breathed life back into the man he thought was Bucky Barnes.

 

And things got dangerous. He did as he was told, up until the last moment, sure. But at the last moment, something happened.

 

Maybe he remembered something. Maybe as that helicarrier tumbled from the sky, as he fell for the second time, _maybe_ he remembered something. Maybe that was why he didn’t just let his target drown. Instead, he dove into the water, grabbing the man in uniform from the inky depths that threatened to swallow them both with the wreckage that loomed overhead.

 

Maybe this was the point that The Winter Soldier resurrected Steve Rogers, dragged him out of the cold grip of death.

 

Or maybe this was the second time that Steve Rogers resurrected Bucky Barnes from being completely dead and gone, and for a long time. Someone that he thought was Bucky Barnes.

**Author's Note:**

> Boy oh boy! Buckle up, kids, if all things go as planned, this one's gonna yank on your heart strings. Hopefully as the chapters progress they'll be longer, but so far, here's the beginning!
> 
> This is my first even fanfiction! So I'm open and seeking any constructive criticism you might have, and I'm also seeking someone to potentially proofread future chapters before they release! Thanks a bunch, I hope you like the first chapter!


End file.
